A Silent Prayer For Two
by HFGirl
Summary: One month after Terry's death, Hutch says a prayer for Starsky.


A Silent Prayer for Two

(One Month after Terry's Death - Hutch prays for help)

Written by HFGirl

_I was minding my own business, working on a project when this idea popped into my head. It wouldn't leave me alone until I put it to paper. Now I can get on with my other project. I tell you, those boys just pop up whenever they want to. ;)_

(So for those who don't know or don't remember, Terry was Starsky's girlfriend. She was shot by Prudholm, who blamed Starsky for his son's death. The bullet was lodged in Terry's brain. Given the choice of laying in a hospital waiting for death or living what time she had left with her best friend and love of her life-Dave Starsky, she took the latter. She only lived for a few days after that).

_Feedback always appreciated._

* * *

'Lord, help my friend to find the strength to make it one more day, to take one step at a time, until he finds his way through this storm into lighter, brighter days ahead.

You see; someone very close to him was taken away by a mad man. She was shot and died a few days later. We're used to this kind of stuff happening to other people, but when it hits home, it's different. Of course, Starsk had been through a rough time when he was a kid. You know his dad was shot and killed. When he came to L.A. he started life over again. He thought he was doing good, becoming a cop, saving innocents from being hurt, putting the bad guys away, but these last years have eaten him away.

He shot a kid. It was in self-defense and he didn't even know it was a kid until after the fact. He's a good guy Lord; he would rather not take a life at all. Not even from these creeps who we put away, but especially not some sixteen-year-old kid. He had nightmares for months after that. He split from his girlfriend and then she was killed by some psycho. He blamed himself for that. If they hadn't split, maybe she wouldn't have taken that assignment as a cocktail waitress and been killed. He was shot in the head and back and his only crime there was dragging me to an Italian restaurant in the rain--nothing to have been shot over. A few months after that, he was poisoned--we thought it was the end for sure. He's been worried about me too. I've had more close calls than he thought he could handle. He was kidnapped by a cult. They beat, burned and psychologically tortured him. He had an APB put out for his arrest. Well we both did, when we tried to help some poor victim who'd had his memory erased. Just a couple of months ago, he raced to help find me when I was ambushed and my car was pushed down a cliff. He stayed with me until I was well. He stuck to me like glue after that. I think he was afraid it might happen again. He was afraid to let go-- I saw so much fear in his eyes. Then he met a girl--his soul mate he called her and he started to feel free again. He let me have some much needed space. You see; Starsk's the kind of guy who gives with a full heart whether to a friend or a lover. He fell hard for this girl. I think she was the one--I really do. She would have made his life complete and now she's gone.

Terry meant everything to him--Love, happiness, hope, peace, children, a home and family. He feels the same way I'd feel, if I lost him. I couldn't cope. I know I couldn't. You know, we mere mortals down here have a breaking point. I'm afraid he's reached his.

All this happened in the space of only a couple of years. That's too much for anyone, don't you think? Anyway, this is the last straw. His shoulders can't bear anymore.

I don't know how to comfort him anymore. I'm grieving too. I'm grieving for Terry and my best friend. I'm losing double on this deal. Oh, he tries to hide it, but I can see it in his eyes. There's no life, no twinkle, no desire to cause mischief. He's just going through the motions.

Tonight, I thought I'd surprised him with one of his favorite dishes. It's an awful concoction, really. A watercress and anchovy pizza with sweet and sour sauce, mixed with Parmesan cheese. Anyway, I knew he was home, because the Torino was parked outside, but the lights were out and it was only Eight o'clock, so right away my senses were alerted. I let myself in as usual. His holster was hanging by the door, but his Beretta was missing. My heart almost stopped. Right away, I dropped the Pizza and rushed to his bedroom. The moonlight hit his face and I could see that his eyes were closed. He was sitting on his bed, fully dressed. He was holding the Beretta, hugging it to his chest. When he looked up and saw me, there were no excuses made, no shame, no trying to hide the gun. He just shed a single tear.

I took the gun and sat next to him. He laid his head on my shoulder and just said, "Hi."

"Hi back," I said.

That small interaction was enough to settle us for another night. Even so, I felt his tears through my shirt, but he fell asleep a few minutes later.

I'm afraid--really terrified. Lord, I need this terribly nutty guy. He's my lifeline. Please help. Amen.'


End file.
